Night Terrors
by bellatrixD
Summary: Tifa could dream with her eyes open, fill the hollowness of reality with a fantasy of death and destruction. Drabbles.
1. Tifa Dreams

Tifa crawled into bed, using the last of her energy to pull the covers over her chilled skin. The boiler was out again. The workers were on strike. She would have to suffer for at least a week until a repairman would come, that is, hoping the strike was over by then. At least the kids did not have to suffer, Barret having taken them away. Small mercies, Tifa thought, that the boiler had chosen the start of the children's week off school to blow out with a final groan.

Barret had used the boiler as an excuse.

As soon as he got a good look at Tifa he had decided to take Denzel and Marlene away. Marlene rushing to present her half coloured picture of their ramshackle family and Denzel pressing a kiss to her chin then accepting the bag of cookies from her before escaping with plans of mischief and adventure.

Just for the night, he had said. Tifa suggested they go for the week.

If Cloud had been home she would have just asked him to fit in a new boiler.

She had not seen him for over a month.

Even under the covers the draught reached her, windows as thin as gossamer veils offering no protection. Fingers that had agonised through icy water to wash the dishes were now numb, puppet fingers, not her own. November wind seeped through the thick duvet and her clothes, prickling her skin into a new layer of goose bumps. It blew against the bricks, creating ghostly life within the walls of the house. Creaks and groans that only existed on nights like these. When she was alone in bed. Alone, just alone.

Imaginary friends?

No. Friends were warmth and light and strength.

When was the last time she had experienced that?

She did not hear the footsteps, the shutting of a door, the aching bed springs.

She was always cold these days. Her light had flickered out long ago. She hadn't even noticed. A gradual dimming? Perhaps. She should have been used to it, growing up in Nibelheim, once upon a time finding comfort in nature nipping at her skin, breathing on her, around her, through her. Ensuring she was alive. Feeling.

Switching the lamp off, she snatched her arm back against her body without actually touching herself. Resigned to the fact that nightmares would plague her.

Tension plagued her body all day, drawing up her bones like a highly strung harp. One snap is all it would have taken. Barret noticed.

So, off they went in his van, the children filled with grins and laughter in their tummies and bags, making sure they had an abundant supply for where they were going. They left none behind.

Tifa and a grey building.

Tifa and a grey building and ghosts.

She fell asleep with an image of Marlene's drawing to give her sweet dreams. Dreams, she hoped, of the man with gold hair.

XxXxXxX

 _Red_

Flames eating the world, reducing everything to ash. Stars blinked out of existence. The sky, black, turned its back on them. It would not watch the destruction, would not save them. Morning would come and stretch over a wasteland. The sky would shine elsewhere.

 _Red_

Eyes taking in hell. Why was she here? Papa was right, she was a bad girl. Her fault, it was all her fault, Mama going to tend to God's garden, she didn't want her anymore, Papa, always so tired and hardworking and stressed, burdened by a four-foot girl, she should have known better, why didn't she know? She deserved it, she should have helped, what could she do with bloodied knuckles? The boys touching her, too healthy, it was her fault. Beauty was a sin, Papa screamed, spit assaulting her. But, Mama was beautiful. Was that why she was lowered into the dirt, face and body shrouded in white? Too beautiful for the world? She should have stopped her body, stopped it, covered it, destroyed it. The demon helped. He was not successful. The little boy, her guardian angel, could not stand her, ran away, forced into a corner. Hero? Not to her, anyone but her, a green eyed beauty, a gem, his gem. The little boy turned man, still hiding, still laden with spoiled words, a fractured promise. Too much, too many times, no more, no more, it was her time, she had to save herself.

Heroes get tired, too.

 _Red_

All over her, leaking out like euphoric bliss. Spilling through the cracks between her fingers, her lips. Her own unique brand of lipstick. Beautiful sin. Painting her skin. Art. He stood over her, the titan, artist. A smirk? Sneer? She was not good enough. He had better work.

But he could help. Take away the inconvenience, ease the world's pain. Save a mother and a father, spare a hopeless boy's mind, send a daughter to her mother in God's garden. Bloodied knuckles could dig and dig and dig all the dirt. Save clean hands.

And there it was, the cloaked demon with its sword, right there, right in front of her. Cold. The fire a distant roar. She was cold. The world shook. It looked at her. Drums in her ears, in her heart, in her hands.

Where was it going? The fire ate it. Spat it out the other end. Split in the middle. Bodies. Children. A baby.

Red skin.

The drums took her lungs. The red burned her eyes.

Dead on the ashy ground. No home. No family. No one. Dead. Her sin was living. Her punishment was life.

The demon

XxXxXxX

Terrors stayed in the mind, the cursed subconscious free to play in slumber.

It woke her, drenching her in a sweat that soaked the sheets. Tifa inhaled the cold damp, shivering and sniffling. It was over, she would not sleep peacefully for the rest of the night, perhaps not again, yet her body did not relax as it usually did once she had experienced the pain of her demented past.

The building rasped and shadows moved. Her stomach sunk, falling and falling until the room spun and she tore through the mattress with her grip as she stubbornly held on as her body swayed.

Scuttling. Black rose from the corner, scampering up the wall and spreading, up the bed, something not quite spiders, not quite scorpions, but a mutation of creatures snapping teeth and jaws and tail. On her legs, her arms, in her hair. Puppet fingers, not her own, scratched at her skin, drawing deep red lines.

A sinister chuckle cut through her whimpers. The monsters surrounded her, but not touching.

Her nightmare had spilled into reality.

The Winter wind peeled away the duvet, icy fingers crawling up her skin. It curled around her neck, her body tight and rigid. Shadowed eyes looked up into black. All colour was drained, Marlene's picture drooping in grey. No more gold hair. Had her dream sucked it out, the only place he was safe?

Claws ripping through skin, freeing blood and organs and air. Sweat on her skin and tears from her eyes.

She deserved this.

Fire ate the floor, crawled up the walls. Hot. But the cold hand remained, frozen clamped around her neck. It pressed harder.

Seventh Heaven stood in the pit of hell she had conjured. It was her, she was destroying this place. When the kids were away and safe and Cloud was recovering peacefully. She allowed herself to die.

But it would not let her.

A crash. Barret's van burst through the window. His body embracing a chunk of glass slicing through him. Marlene covered in bruises. Denzel with black discharge. A colourless Cloud. The fire engulfed them, slowly.

The mirror across from her rippled like the disturbed waters in a lake. Unnatural glowing eyes. It waved.

Tifa screamed. Fingers squeezed the column of her neck, choking her. Her own pulled away, punching the space around her until it materialised, nose grazing her face as its teeth sunk into flesh and a sword pierced through her chest, wounding, but not killing. She was its dummy.

Gold light blasted through the door. It chased away the looming shadows, tamed the fire into little flickers until they blew out like candles. Her demon vanished, flying to safety until she was defenceless.

She kicked and yelled at the phantom sensations that lingered, ignoring the hands, warm and gentle, that pulled her up.

"Tifa!"

Familiar. Cerise eyes opened, scrambling to the edge of the bed, almost falling off in her haste. No Marlene, or Denzel, or Barrett. Their blood did not stain the floor. Exhaling a breath, she shuddered. They were alive and safe, away from her.

But what if they weren't?

Marlene and Denzel crushed under metal, oil blending with blood, glass doll eyes staring as she watched on, helpless, drip drip drip flicker _BOOM_

"No. No!"

Something shrill in her head, an alarm, a cry, something. Head between her hands, she pressed and pressed until it felt as if she would crush her skull. Her babies, her darlings, dead and burned in a ditch, buried amongst the remains of monsters. Burning hair and melting flesh. She could _smell_ them dying.

Her fault.

"Stop! Just stop. Leave them. Kill me already, just DO IT!"

" _Tifa!_ "

The light broke through the noise. Silence. At last. No creaks or groans or whispers. No laughter. Nothing.

Was she dead?

She wished.

Her reflection met her in the mirror. Was it her? She almost recoiled. It was her. A new her.

Who was she?

"Tifa."

The body that belonged to that voice did not touch her this time.

"Where are they?"

"Who?"

"My kids."

 _My kids._ Not theirs.

"Barrett took them."

How did he know? It didn't matter. He knew and they were safe and he was here and she was alive and awake.

But for how long?

"Hi."

She thought she saw his lip curve up into something of a smile. A twitch, maybe. It didn't last long.

"Hi. Alright?"

Her throat was too dry for a response, so she settled for shaking her head. Bad move. Her neck throbbed at the twist of skin, her hair rubbing against the sores.

Cloud frowned, she must have flinched, hissed, something. He pulled her hair behind her shoulder, revealing several raw and bloodied scratches.

"Tifa…"

"What?"

"Did you…"

"What?"

It was almost as if Tifa had sucked in all the moisture only to release it through her pores. Cloud licked his lips, once, twice. Not sufficient enough for words to slide off his tongue.

Jumping off the bed, he crossed the room to the door, stopping abruptly before pivoting on the spot and tucking the duvet around Tifa, ensuring no skin was bare to the harsh chill. While he was gone Tifa wiggled toes she did not feel. A silent shadow flew across the wall, dancing past her. She shut her eyes, squeezing them and hoping her brain would just stop. It was not real, she knew that. So, why was she hurting herself like this?

Because she deserved it.

Tifa could dream with her eyes open, fill the hollowness of reality with a fantasy of death and destruction. A puppet.

"My fault…it's all my fault…I'm a monster…what's happened to me? Who am I? Horrible person…deserve every pain…pathetic."

Cloud returned, perching himself beside her. Gently, he peeled away the cover, taking note of all her wounds. She took the potions in his hand, sighing as her skin pulled together leaving only thin pink lines.

Tired and restless, she lay back down on the sweat dampened sheets. The morning sun would rise in a few hours and so would she. A run, some cleaning, a bit of grocery shopping, changing the blinking lightbulb in the bar, oil the squeaking cupboard. She was sure Marlene had mentioned a mouse hole in her room, another thing to add to her list. Then she would prepare the tables and bar, have meals ready for the customers and spend her evening listening to the woes of many broken souls, most broken by her sins. It was only right that she was the one to listen and offer consoling hums and nods. Suffer through a pitying grope or two before swinging them out of her bar with a warning spitting off her tongue.

Then, once the mess was all cleared and she had showered and brushed her teeth after a dinner of toast, maybe, she would go to sleep and surrender to the loneliness the night brought her.

In the morning, she would start all over again. No children to keep her plastic smile in place and a thrum in her breast.

The mattress shifted as a weight moved up the bed. He was still there.

"How long have you been having these nightmares?"

She shrugged. Her life was a nightmare. Why should sleep be any different?

"I'm…I'm worried. I want to help. Please, Teef."

Some time ago hearing those words would have made her tear up. When had she lost faith? She disgusted herself.

This was Cloud. He was unstable, restless. Who knew how long he would stay? No, she could not run him off faster with her problems. Problems that she did not even consider problems. They were her way of life, a permanent fixture she had to deal with herself. She earned it. Dragging Cloud along would only hurt him, and in turn her, further. And the kids. She could not do that to them.

As if sensing the direction of her wayward thoughts Cloud rest his hand on where he guessed her shoulder to be.

"I'm here, now. I want to be here. Running away…I can't anymore." He sighed. "It hurts. No more. I can't do that to you anymore, or Denzel and Marlene. I want to try. With…you."

Could she let him? After all he had been through, the abuse, physical and mental, all the expectations thrust onto him, onto his little boy's shoulders, the torture that rattled his brain into oblivion. She was meant to be the rock of the family. Solid and still. A wall, keeping everyone in and together. It was her shoulder that people leant on. Where they picked themselves up after a short respite. She was the encouraging nudge and forceful words and firm hand. She couldn't afford to crumble.

As always, her face fixed into her Tifa smile, the mask pieced together like patchwork. Peering over her shoulder, she got her first good look at him since his arrival. Golden halo and blue eyes.

"I'm here. Always."

With that, she turned to face the window, looking up for stars that shied away from her terrified and hopeful eyes. The bed sunk under Cloud's weight. A brief draught before his warmth engulfed her, his arms holding her to him. She felt him breathe her in, his lips grazing her shoulder, what she thought might have been a kiss. Greetings, farewell. It was all the same to her. She did not expect it to last long.

"You're Tifa." His words rang in her head, confusing her until she caught up to her previous words. He had heard. "You're my Tifa."


	2. Fire and Snow

The first announcement went off before they had even left the house, the megaphone counting down the minutes. Both adults jumped, one noticeably more. They shared a look.

 _Is this necessary?_

Feet racing down stairs accompanied by excited chatter and giggling.

She sighed.

 _For the kids._

He sighed.

 _For the kids._

It took minutes for the patchwork family to get to Edge centre even with Cloud and Tifa dragging their feet like sulking children. Marlene and Denzel, in a sudden bout of childish giddiness that clouded their usual astute perceptiveness, pulled the hesitant adults along.

"Come on, we're going to miss the show!"

"I thought I heard something."

"Cloud! Pleeeeaasse. Come on."

He never was good at denying the kids anything they had the means to do. Whether it was from his own painfully restricted childhood, their bug like eyes and pouting (no doubt learnt from Yuffie) or just a lack of control on his part. Tifa was the discipliner. He was just there, and they seemed just fine by that.

Marlene was not completely oblivious, however, that Cloud's attention towards a dark and empty alley was another delay to the inevitable.

Denzel's words cut through Marlene's urging.

"I've never seen them so close before."

The young boy shuffled his feet, embarrassed by his admission. Cloud's heart plummeted.

"Come on," Tifa said, her motherly smile in place before Cloud could manage to grasp the emotion that swamped him. Resting her hand on Denzel's back, she took Cloud's hand with the other. "I heard the ending is going to be a blast."

Denzel rolled his eyes. Even Cloud slightly shook his head at Tifa's poor pun. Meeting her eyes, he silently thanked her for the change in mood. Was there anything she couldn't do?

As soon as they crossed the road and reached the edge of the crowd Marlene and Denzel ran off to find their friends. Cloud counted three food vans, two coffee carts and two stalls selling souvenirs to the audience as they waited in the frosty evening for the display. The megaphone rang out again. Five minutes.

Tifa shivered under her layers, her scarf wound tightly around her neck and the bottom half of her face. From what little skin of hers he could see, she was incredibly pale with a red tipped nose. Without thinking, he removed his free hand from his pocket and tweaked her nose.

"I can't feel that," she said, voice mumbled through her woollen scarf.

"I'm warming it for you."

"I don't know why I'm so cold, it used to be so much colder in Nibelheim."

Perhaps it was because of her body being incapable to defend herself against the cold. Did she think he did not realise how little she ate? How hard she worked? She was running into her own grave too fast for Cloud to catch her. Her mind always jumping between things to do for everyone around her, leaving her own needs for another day. Did she not think of herself as important enough to care for?

He did not say any of that. As always his mouth moved of its own accord, detached from his worries and fright. "It's been a while since we were there. I guess we're not used to it anymore."

The man who could save the world but not his world. Pathetic.

"Hmm. Hungry?"

Tifa had decided to treat them out for dinner instead of cooking at home. To experience the whole atmosphere, she had said. A picnic of sorts. At that moment, the house shook from the harsh wind, the front door slamming open and knocking a chair over.

Cloud was not good at saying no to Tifa either.

He nodded. "Should I get the kids?"

"No, they'll find us whenever they're ready to eat. Right now I really need something to put blood back in my fingers."

He squeezed her hand, the one that was still holding his.

"What do you want?"

Four minutes.

Instead of cutting through the crowd they walked along the outskirts, getting a cup of coffee each and sticky barbecue poultry rolls that Tifa insisted on despite the extravagance of the cost.

Two minutes.

Finally settled on a bench, the two quietly ate their meals. Their thoughts, however, had taken them far away from the little rickety bench (how it managed not to break under Cloud astonished him) in the centre of Edge. The sweet sauce on his tongue reminded Cloud of his mother's sticky puddings that she made only once a year in the winter whenever she could manage to get all the ingredients. The cold reminiscent of Nibelheim's harsh winds, the joy of bundling up and running out into the falling snow. Falling back into the white blanket and spreading out his arms and legs to make as many snow angels as he could in the little space he occupied in front of his house. The smell of fresh snow surrounding him as the stars shone down on him, just him. His pocket of heaven.

Frozen fingers and toes. Warm milk and honey. The smell of fresh spiced bread.

Even with the stars and his family of imprinted snow he couldn't help but stare out at the other children playing and laughing together.

The snow and stars rippling until the scene panned out to the moment on the well where he opened his little's boys heart to little Tifa only to say goodbye.

Before the fire.

One minute.

More recent memories, of the unique taste of the Special at the diner in Wall Street and the cold of mountains and a forgotten land. Bittersweet, just like every moment in Cloud's life. When would the time come for him to just breathe? No instant recollections of beautiful corpses and hope for a future that would never come.

A whistle shot through the sky, silencing the mass of people, before exploding into flaming glitter.

He was gone again, away from the rickety bench and into a flying box across from a beautiful woman. He was there, with her, that breath-taking smile and eyes that glimmered like the fireworks they watched. Reds and blues and golds and greens. She wanted him to watch them with her, take in their beauty in the midst of their quest, take a moment with her to appreciate the simple things. But how could he when she seized his lungs and made his stomach flutter and his heart thump?

It was unwanted, this memory of her. Because in that moment it was just him and her and the colourful bursts without the world looking over their shoulders but she was not here now so he did not want to be either.

Somehow Marlene and Denzel had found them. They sat on the ground a bit on front of them, in awe of the spectacle of dancing colours in the sky. He couldn't watch, not the fireworks nor the light in the eyes of everyone, not when he would see her in them. He had to leave.

Standing up, Cloud tucked his chin beneath the collar of his coat, only to stop by the slightest hitch of breath from his companion.

Tifa sat there, rigid, eyes squeezed shut, hands fisted.

A flash of purple and he saw the tears tracking down her face.

"Tifa?" He was beside her in an instant. She was unharmed as far as he could see. Tilting her chin so he could get a better look, she flinched. The whimper that broke free speared his heart. "Teef. Look at me."

She shook her head.

"What's wrong? Teef."

Lips trembled and released something half gasp half sob. "I don't want to see it."

"See what?"

But he did not need to ask to know. A succession of fireworks went off, one two three four five six. Tifa jumped and shook. Cloud saw it as clearly as the day it happened. The destruction of Sector 7, the plate the killed so many people, that almost killed Denzel. That killed his parents. The countless fights, gunshots, missiles, bombs.

"It was my fault," she was muttering to herself. "It was me I killed them it was me my fault."

"No, Tifa." She wasn't listening. Or perhaps she could not hear him beyond the fog of horror playing in her mind. He had to help her, would do anything, but what? This was nothing like saving the world and defeating monsters. This time he had to save her from her thoughts. Could he do that?

She had joked with Denzel earlier. That had cheered him up. Could he do the same? He knew no jokes. Cid had once told him of a joke about a Chocobo crossing the swamp but he figured that was rather crude.

Cloud uncurled one fisted hand and engulfed it with the heat of his own, shocked at the iciness of it.

Sometimes she would tell Marlene stories when she had a bad dream. Rock her on her lap, stroke her hair and whisper the sweetest tale to soothe the young girl.

Just maybe…

Shuffling closer until their sides touched, Cloud cushioned her head with his shoulder.

"It was the first day of snow in Nibelheim and the little boy ran outside, his hat falling off his crazy hair and shoes untied and coat unbuttoned. His mum was yelling at him from inside but he wasn't listening. He wanted to be the first to taste the snow. It was like waking up to a whole new world, cleaner and brighter. It gave him hope and confidence that something good was going to happen that day.

He could remember his first snow day so clearly because his friend was there, wrapped in the blue scarf his mum had made for her. She hugged the boy and told him to thank his mum for her, because now she could play without getting a cold. He told her that just by having a scarf wouldn't stop her from getting a cold. He didn't mean to say that. What he was thinking was that she looked really pretty in blue. But for some reason, whenever she was around his brain went runny like soup and he couldn't grab hold of the thought he wanted to say. Instead, it was always something stupid that managed to spill out of his mouth. But his friend didn't mind. She actually thought about it, then asked if she could get some gloves as well to stop her hands going red when she touched the snow. The boy gave her his gloves."

Cloud paused, thinking of what next to say. Tifa hiccupped, her body moving with it, but was otherwise silent. He looked up. Blue and silver stars fell from the sky.

Liquid trickled over his neck. The fireworks boomed louder in his ears. He did not know what else to say. That was the only real story he had of the little girl next door. After that she seemed to get distracted by her other friends, never having enough time for the quiet boy. He wasn't going to bring that up, it would only make her more upset.

That night where he stared up into his heaven came back to him, the rippling clearing away as the scene came back into focus. He was still submerged in the snow, breathing out mist and watching it swirl in the air. Somehow, the little pretty girl from next door had escaped the confinement of her friends and plopped down beside him, making a snow angel of her own. They stood up, shivering and shaking but warm from the innocent enjoyment that only came from the Snow's magic. Pink cheeks and blue mittens. He could not help but stare as the falling snow caught on her eyebrows and hair. A snow princess. The next thing Cloud knew those blue mittens covered his face and pink lips pressed against his cheek. She hadn't even said a word. She had

"kissed me."

Tifa sniffled, pushing her hair behind her ear. Cloud's warm breath fanned onto her rosy tear stained cheeks.

"You looked so cute."

His lip twitched upwards.

"It haunts me," she confided in a whisper, the words lingering in the pocket of space they inhabited.

"No one came back unscathed. We all have our demons."

"But they're fireworks! It's supposed to be something nice and enjoyable and I can't even watch them without freaking out."

"It scares me too," he said, thinking back to his hesitancy.

"How?"

"The Golden Saucer. Watching them with Aerith before she…"

"Oh."

That must have sounded pathetic, worrying over fireworks simply because of his past experience with them when Tifa had a legitimate reason to be scared.

"Vincent had mentioned that you stood at my door that night for quite some time."

Wrong thing to say, Cloud realised when Tifa hid her face.

"I never got to ask you why."

"I thought…it would be fun if we spent the night together. Checking out the Golden Saucer! Not just being in your room, no. I mean, taking advantage of the free events and having a go at all the thing and…stuff."

"Oh. Right."

It sounded a lot like how his date with Aerith went. Perhaps if he had gone with Tifa…

She removed herself from his side, quickly wiping away the evidence of her breakdown as the finale approached. Tifa smiled at him.

"We'll get through this. Together, right? Help each other."

The fireworks called her attention, an explosion of colour and music marking the end of the rare exhibition. He was mesmerised, captivated by raining specks of coloured snow on the pretty girl from next door. New memories would take over the old, like snow blanketing the hurt world and creating a blank canvas for them.

He would see silver and gold sparks reflected in red eyes and barbecue sauce on pink lips.

"Yeah. Together."

Cloud wrapped his arm around her shoulders before the digging of knees and hands broke him from his daze as the children jumped onto their carers.

* * *

Partly inspired from Guy Fawkes Night and the rest coming out of nowhere as I listened to Interrupted by Fireworks and Tifa's Theme while writing this. Not as horrific as the previous but I wanted to have a go at Cloud's perspective of something not entirely guilt ridden but more to do with his childhood memories. It was initially going to be from Tifa's pov seeing as she's scared of the fireworks but I've already ventured into her perspective. Mistake? Perhaps. Shall I turn this into Drabbles? Let me know!

Thanks to Guest (GloriousCreation) for your wonderful reviews!


	3. Cloud's Burden

Blue eyes shot open, the dream behind them escaping into the night for the black sky to swallow. His heart was still racing. Sweat drenched his clothes.

Tifa stirred, rolling over, her hand instinctively finding his back. Sleep warmed skin seeped into him.

Black boots stood by the wall beside the door, ready for when he awoke for work. His delivery slips underneath his goggles and keys. Just like every night. It saved him scrambling in the morning to find everything he needed for work. He could never remember where he dropped his things, especially after a long day of driving disrupted by monsters throwing themselves at him. He would have to thank Tifa for remembering to organise his things for him. Again.

As quietly as possible he got out of bed and tiptoed out into the hall, avoiding the creaky spots on his way to the bathroom. He left the light off while he pissed, relieving the ache in his bladder. The lamplight from the street illuminated the room in hues of grey and blue. A blind was needed. While the window was translucent, a mishmash of distorted rectangles blurring the view, the light always burned his eyes whenever he woke up in the middle of the night. Something that happened far too often for his liking.

The flush was loud in the silent house, growling like a monster ready to launch. Cloud's body tensed, listening out for any curious footsteps wandering. When he was sure everyone was still in bed he turned the tap on low, the quiet trickling of a thin stream of water remaining inside the four walls. It was cold, but that was the price for ensuring no one's disturbance.

The icy water cleared his eyes from the sleepy haze. Stung his face. Dripped off the tips of his hair. Now that he was up he might as well get started early. Maybe even go and get something for Tifa to thank her for her troubles. Yes, he could stop by Costa del Sol and buy her the pebbled necklace she had admired the last time they had passed through. Some sweets for the kids, too. The reports sticking proudly on the fridge told him how well they were doing in their new school. It would be good to reward them.

With his day's schedule in mind, Cloud turned the tap off and towelled his hands and face dry. Replacing the towel on the rack, he grabbed his toothbrush and began the mindless routine of circling the brush in his mouth. Starting on the right, working his way to the front, then the left, moving to clean the back and then switching to his upper teeth. He spat out the mouthful of minty bubbles, pausing at the dark substance staining the porcelain bowl. It looked black in the dim lighting, swirling down the drain with the white foam. Like coffee in milk.

Like blood in rain.

Wide panicked eyes met his in the mirror. Mirror Cloud's eyes flashed. Blue-green. Green. He blinked, and he had his eyes back.

The water washed the liquid away. He must have brushed too fiercely, he assured himself, cut open his gums.

He spat. No white foam. Just black.

He switched the light on, the fan whirring to life, and noticed that it wasn't blood, but something black. A thick pus like substance. Cloud checked his gums in the mirror, the pink bleeding black from his right side as it throbbed painfully. Blue-green eyes flashed. Blond withered to grey. Mirror Cloud smirked.

"No."

Squeezing his eyes shut he repeated his mantra ("you're not real, this isn't happening, it's in my head. I'm fine. Cloud Strife, from Nibelheim, former Shinra Infantryman, not First Class SOLDIER") over and over until the supercilious chuckling echoing in his head faded out.

Inhale. Exhale.

He crept through the hallway back to his room. The shadows slithered up the walls, across the floor. Whispers in his head. He couldn't find a source, no tangible body that threatened him and his family. No one to attack. How could he defend his family without an enemy? His eyes restless, anticipating.

Tifa was as he left her, rolled up like a burrito in their bed, her mess of dark hair the only part of her visible. He watched the lump where her body lay rise and fall with each sleep induced breath. Heard her light snoring that was more like a contended purr. He knew her dreaming face better than he knew himself, from the pinch of her arched brows to her twitching nose and her slightly parted lips. As if sensing his stiff body by the door she shuffled, exposing more of her until he could see the strong width of her shoulders.

He stepped further into the room, eyes drawn to her tantalising unmarred neck. Fresh. Soft. His hand curled around the familiar handle of his Buster Sword that stood beside his boots against the wall. It lifted easily. No rust. No dirt. His body moved with it, like dancers, lovers.

The streetlight glinted off the large blade, slicing across Tifa's neck, enticing him, the blade, the urge. _Right here,_ it said, caressing him. _Just a scratch._

 _So soft…supple…pure…_

 _Kill her._

Blue-green eyes flickered, pupils narrowed into feline slits.

Tifa stirred, face scrunching.

"Cloud?"

Feeling no body heat beside her she lifted her head up, forcing her heavy eyes open. He stood over her, sword drawn over her body, the thin blade of Masamune jerking her into alertness.

"Cloud, what…what's going on?"

Cloud with hungry green cat's eyes and greying hair. Black ink dripped from his eyes and lips, sliding down his skin.

He grinned a satisfied grin, one that didn't belong on his face. Her fright excited him. Sent a shiver down his spine.

A little swish of his wrist and a thin line emerged on her white neck exactly where the light cut her. Mouth watered at the red pooling through the crack.

Tifa's nerves jumped into life, her senses finally catching up to her mind's insistent commands. Jumping out from the confines of the duvet she swung her fist at Cloud.

"Stop! Cloud, wake up!"

He easily dodged her fists with a tilt of his head, almost as if she were moving in slow motion. As if he was blurred from speed. Her face tingled in pain from taunting slaps and punches between the blurs. Tifa lifted her leg, aiming a kick to his neck in hopes of paralysing him, stunning him, something, anything to slow him down. A hopeless gesture. The magic of Mako running through his veins. His hand grabbed her ankle, the snapping of bones in his fist. She could only hop in order to maintain her balance before being shoved back onto the bed. It bowed under her as she rolled over to the other side, wiping blood or black from her split lip.

"Cloud, please."

In an instant he was behind her, lifting Tifa by her long dark hair that pulled at her scalp and threw her at the wall. Before she made impact with it she managed to vault her body using the bed post, angling her body to land gracefully on the wall then kicking herself off her feet and flying through the room at Cloud. Elbow pulled back, a cry escaped her throat. Her arm dropped to her side and her yell broke off into a whimper, her body dangling off Masamune in the air like a cheap ragdoll.

He stared as her blood trickled down the sharp blade, dropping like splatters of ink onto the white bed sheet. His own vision misted in murky black. With a careless shrug he slid Masamune out from her limp body. She fell with a thump, black tears rolling down her face as smoky bruises spun onto her dying body.

XxXxXxXx

Blue eyes shot open. A stabbing burn shot up his arm like poison in his blood. Black pus oozed out of his skin, staining the bandage wrapped over the smoky bruise. His heart drummed in his chest, a caged animal. Sweat drenched his clothes.

Tifa bleeding to death.

Tifa tainted by the disease that cursed him.

Tifa dead by his hand.

Cloud cradled his head in his hands, urging the images to go away, the whispers and the hissing. Lifeless ruby eyes.

What if she was – while he was gone what if – what happened – the kids – Tifa – Geostigma –

Curses were spat out of his mouth, sour on his tongue. His eyes didn't know whether to close or open. He couldn't escape his nightmares. They followed him out of his sleep and plagued his reality like a shadow.

Moments passed until everything became clear and silent and it was just him in the church. The church that was supposed to spare him from his demons. What good was a sacred building if it couldn't ward off evil? His circle of safety.

What bullshit.

There was no place safe for him, not in the church or even in the arms of the woman he wanted closest to him, so close he could feel her every heartbeat against him, be certain nothing would ever harm her. But he couldn't save her from himself, from the evil that could so easily use him as its puppet. He was his own biggest enemy.

The scent of the flowers and damp soil filled his nose as the pain dulled into a throb under his skin, annoying but now familiar. A parasite. It was a mystery to him, one he could not allow to taint Tifa like it had him. Denzel was safe. If the worst imaginable were to happen he would die loved and happy with a family he had lost hope of ever having after his past tragedy. A broken family, but one nonetheless.

Cloud didn't deserve that. He wouldn't allow his death to burden them further. More supplies wasted on his waning body. Another body to bury, to mourn.

Their tears and love would not fall on another lost soul.

Without thinking he grabbed his phone, his thumb going to the button with the marking rubbed off from overuse. Holding it to his ear he listened to the robotic voice before his heart squeezed and his breath hitched at hearing her.

" _Hi, Cloud. Busy day today, huh? I hope you ate well. There's always a plate ready for you at home if you feel up for it. How did the deliveries go? Any strange stories on particular customers? I hope the humidity wasn't too bad for you. The kids are asking about you. They were wondering if you would help them with their history project. It's not due in for another two weeks. What do you think? Cid phoned, has something he needs and wants you to deliver it. You better get back to him quick, you know what – Marlene! Oh, I have to go, Cloud. I hope you're well. Come back soon. We lo-miss you."_

It was over too soon. He played it three more times, never tiring of her gentle voice, always loving, never admonishing, but knowing her well enough to detect the hurt dips of her voice. He hated that it was him who did that to her, lilted her voice and spirits. He admired her so much, for her strength, her determination in living and helping others. Never faltering. She was so much more than him. She deserved unadulterated happiness. Raw love.

Nothing he could provide.

The children's laughter in the background from their game. Expecting the world from him for reasons he couldn't fathom. Expecting him.

He knew why this was happening. The world was still punishing him. His blood tarnished with the alien cells, ready to mutate when he was at his most vulnerable. He would not let himself be the one to end the lives he cherished and loved most. Aerith's death had stabbed at the remaining thoughts and feelings of Zack that inhabited his mind, destroying the sanity he believed was his own. She was a dear friend, and perhaps there had been a part of him that loved her. Loved her for her courage and spirit and refreshing aura. Loved her for her confidence, one which he had yet to develop. The ease in which she spoke so bluntly without restraint. Her forgiveness and innocence. Moments where he had considered a future with her. Was that of his own volition? He could not tell. Would he ever be sure?

But Tifa…he couldn't even think about life without her. Not even a possibility, not if he could help it. That was the stuff of nightmares. There had never been a Cloud without her. He depended on her, too much to be healthy, but every moment in his life had somehow involved her, revolved around her. He had never believed in fate and in soul mates, things of fantasy and higher powers. But maybe, just maybe, she was the constant in his life for a reason.

He had to get better first. For himself. For her. Their family.

Empty and breaking, the church was his to hide in and recover. The last standing. One day it would fall, once it's purpose would be over.

Laying back down on the cold wooden floor with the rhythmic drops of shallow rain through the hole in the roof, he covered as much of himself as he could with the frayed blanket, wishing Tifa's scent poured out of the stitches, soothing him to a restful sleep. Phone pressed against his ear, he listened to her voice and the kids in the background wreaking havoc, a lullaby serenading him to sweet dreams where he could hold her and love her exactly how she deserved and how he never had been able to before. She would save him. She was his heroine.

* * *

Am I on fire lately or what? Okay, I was going to do one in Tifa's pov seeing as it's her turn, but this came out instead. I mainly wanted to get something out to respond to both Guest reviewers because I feel obliged to reply as quickly as I can (any way of messaging you guys please let me know if you don't mind!) I hope this kind of clears up the Cloud loving Aerith questions. It's not supposed to answer it but give suggestions. I will be exploring it in later chapters (hopefully, if I continue on with these drabbles).

It's possible to love two people simultaneously but obviously with Zack's memories and habits influencing Cloud that played a major role in Clerith in my opinion. But I also don't like thinking that Cloud was only attracted to her through that, that he genuinely liked her and could have seen himself with her beyond friendship. Besides, as much as I love and adore the notion of only having one girl on your mind for your entire life (strictly Cloti fan), it doesn't seem entirely realistic. Or at least from the people I've known and witnessed in life. It does happen though!

PS. These chapters are intended to be independent from each other but I guess they could work as detached parts to one story. Whichever you prefer.


	4. Parenthood

The forks scraping against plates was beginning to grate on her nerves. It reminded her of Miss Nomura when she would scratch her long, dirty nails on the chalkboard to silence the class back in Nibelheim. All the children would squeal and slap their hands over their ears, shutting their eyes until wrinkles appeared like claws stretching out from the corners of their skin to grab at the smiling teacher and shut her up, as if not looking at her would lessen the torment.

This was worse.

Tifa had made a foreign dish for lunch, fried beans and vegetables with some buttery potatoes. Everyone had pitched in and helped, even Cloud when he had arrived early from his deliveries. The rush of preparing the food and table along with allocating jobs to everyone had consumed her. There was no awkward silence or desperate one sided conversations. When Denzel had accidentally sliced his finger due to Marlene's excited jostling Tifa was there to clean the weeping cut. He hadn't so much as uttered a complaint while she pressed against it, but she offered words of comfort regardless, words pulled out from a deep rooted memory.

Throughout their time on their journey to end ShinRa and then save the world she was surrounded by others her age, never needing to console anyone or care for anyone like a…like a mother. Yuffie was only a teenager at the time, but she proved to handle herself surprisingly well. In the few moments Tifa had witnessed her break down she had never needed many words, just to extend her arm and allow the small ninja to fall against her shoulder. Hell, she had probably witnessed more horrors than Tifa. So, with her mind being secured years before during the Wutai war, physical comfort was all she had needed.

Looking after Marlene when she had first met her and Barrett made her learn some more about caring for children. But she was such an obedient child, rarely fussing or rebelling against what she was being told. Barrett had raised her well. Tifa had just managed to not screw it up.

Now, with Denzel and Marlene both old enough to understand that they were not a real family, that both her and Cloud had no fixed obligation to them, how was she to act? She fed them, made sure they did not get too out of hand, maintained manners and fairness, kept them clean and healthy. That she could accomplish easily. One didn't have to be considered a mother to do any of that. So, what made her a maternal figure? Or, perhaps it was all in her head. Was she a mother to them?

Did they want her to be?

There was a line, somewhere, covered in the dust of war and ashes of the dead, and Tifa did not want to overstep it. Nor did she want the children to give answers they believed she wanted to hear. In spite of not knowing how to be a mother, the notion warmed her heart. She clung to it desperately, wanting, needing something solid to keep her tethered and sane. She did not know of a purpose for her without the children.

At times, she felt a lot like a mother, like she had been with the kids for their entire lives and been there for every milestone. Hearing Marlene first tell her that she did not need any assistance in the bath had damn near broke her heart – her little girl, so grown up! Measuring Denzel's new height and comparing it to the notch in the wall two inches shorter from weeks prior had her imagining a little baby, no bigger than an arm's length and peering up at her through dazzling blue eyes. She had no real idea of knowing what Denzel looked like as a baby, but there were times when an image would be conjured in her mind and she would be certain that it was real.

With Marlene these feelings came a lot more often and easier.

With Denzel, not so much.

Although they treated him exactly as they did Marlene, Tifa thought many times if they shouldn't be a bit more relaxed. After all, he was not used to them. He had parents to remember and cherish, had an entire childhood without them and their ways. It had taken time for him to find his groove and be himself, but there were moments where he seized up, like he did not know what to do and just sat there staring into space. Waiting.

Waiting for what?

Tifa had not a clue. A mother would know – a real one, whether it was his mother or not. Mother's instinct. Tifa wanted that.

So as they sat around the kitchen table eating their fried beans and vegetables, Tifa could not help but notice Denzel twirling strips of peppers on his fork. Nothing had gone into his mouth in the past few minutes. Did he not like peppers? He had never mentioned anything before. Had he always left them on his plate for Tifa to clear? She realised, with a shiver of shame, that she could not recall. Peppers were easy to grow around Edge, so it was something she made often. She should have noticed. Remembered.

She would make a terrible mother.

Maybe he just did not like vegetables very much. Kids didn't tend to. Even Cloud made faces at some of the vegetation Tifa rustled up. But vegetables offered vitamins and nutrients, it was good for Denzel to eat them. She did not want to come off as a bully and force him, not when he was so obedient and polite. His parents may have been more lenient, but they could have been, they were his parents and he would love them regardless.

What the hell was she supposed to do?

Marlene had just finished recounting her maths lesson, rolling her eyes at the immaturity of a boy who had spent most of the hour balancing his pencil on his upper lip whilst blowing raspberries. Cloud smiled, ruffling her hair as he told her how good of a person she was for telling the teacher instead of yelling at him herself. Marlene answered with a grin, shovelling the rest of her food in her mouth. Cloud sent a questioning gaze to Tifa. Even she was surprised at her distracted mind. Normally she was first in with a comment.

"How's the food, Marlene?" Tifa asked.

"Ish good!"

"Marlene…"

The young girl swallowed. "It's really good, Tifa. What about you, Denzel?"

"It's nice."

"You chopped up the mushrooms really well," Tifa said.

"It wasn't hard," he shrugged.

"Ah, but have you ever seen Cloud chop them? He can handle big massive swords but give him a little knife and he suddenly loses his balance."

"Hey."

"It's true, Cloud!" Marlene giggled. "Is there any dessert today?"

"Hmm, there might be some ice cream in the freezer."

Marlene gasped. "I've finished all of my dinner. Can I have some? Please!"

"Of course."

As Marlene ran off, taking her plate to put in the sink, Denzel seemed to sink lower into his seat, fork still playing with strips of pepper. She had to do something, fast.

"Denzel."

She waited for him to look up.

"Are you full up?"

"No."

"Oh. Are you sure you liked the food? It's okay if you didn't."

"I did like it, I do. It's really tasty, Tifa," Denzel assured. Then, he put the pepper in his mouth, chewed it slowly.

"Why don't you leave the rest. Go and get some ice cream before Marlene finished eating it all."

Later in the evening, Tifa and Cloud had cleared the kitchen and stood by the sink washing and drying the dishes respectively. Denzel and Marlene were busy with a puzzle, a present from Cloud. One thousand pieces. They had started it not long ago, and Tifa was sure they would be at it for a long time. They could have a nice evening in the living room, the kids playing while she read a book, something she realised she had not done in quite a while, and Cloud would either sort out his routes or join the kids. If he didn't retreat to his office. If he stayed.

Mr Lockhart had brought Tifa her first puzzle when she was six years old. She couldn't remember what it was of, just that her mother had helped her find the missing pieces that had fallen out of the box when Tifa had first opened it. She held onto the memory before the wisps flew out from between her fingers. The image of her mother was blurred, as if white noise had replaced the details. Whenever Tifa tried to think back on her childhood all she could see was her, her father and a grey fuzziness. Even in her dreams she would run towards it, chase it as if there she would find comfort and answers. As soon as she would reach it the grey would explode into smoke, and she would be lost all over again.

Nightmares of her walking away from her dying mother. Blood spilling from her mouth. Grey gossamer skin stretched over brittle bones. She had sucked out her mother's life, breathed it in for herself to wear until Mrs Lockhart ceased to exist. Physically and mentally.

No more pictures survived of her. No worthy memory. Even her own reflection deceived her, the apparent replica of her mother. She could never see her, not in her eyes, her nose, her lips. No one stared back but a stranger trying to find herself.

Cloud looked just like his mum. She could remember her perfectly. She had seen her up until the day she died, the only day she longed to forget.

"Do you remember your mother?"

Tifa had not meant the words to spill out, not realising their fluid consistency as she played with them in her head. They had never spoken about their parents the entire time they had been reacquainted. An odd comment here and there perhaps, but nothing sufficient enough for a conversation. Not even for deep contemplation. Now that the words were out she was both dreading and anticipating his response.

"Yeah," Cloud said quietly.

"What about her?" she asked in the same tone of voice, jumping in her puddle.

"Mum made the best bread. Her knuckles were always so red and sore all the time from the kneading and washing and cold weather. They were probably the ugliest hands ever, but they were amazing hands." He stared into the shining plate as he dried it, lost in thought just as Tifa was lost in the soapy water. "She…she always made sure I was happy and loved when the rest of the town was determined to want me to hate myself just as much they hated me."

The twisting of her heart was painful, but she knew he had not meant it. He should have, though. She never did make much of an effort to befriend him. She was just as bad as the others, turning a blind eye.

"Not you," he said, sensing her sudden unease as if a cloud shrouded the sun. "Don't…don't think that. I didn't mean that."

Tifa nodded, the hurting boy looking away from her in the sink. "I know."

"Why did you ask?"

"Just curious," she shrugged.

"Okay. What brought it on?"

She could have laughed at the irony, that when she suddenly wants to be left alone with her thoughts Cloud decides to be bold and help her rationalise them.

"Does Denzel like vegetables?"

He put down the plate he was finished drying. "Some. No kid likes all vegetables."

"Right, but does he like peppers?"

"Tifa –"

"Because he hardly ate any tonight and I didn't want to interrogate him so I left it alone, but I don't know, was that the right thing to do? Should I have made him eat them? What if he expects me to let him not eat any ever again just because of tonight? I can't believe I've not noticed it before."

Cloud pulled her hands out of the water, forcing her body to face him.

"Tifa, what is all this about? Denzel said he enjoyed the food, what more do you want?"

"It's just…he's more open with you. He trusts you more and talks to you. I just figured you could help me out a bit," she admitted, the soothing strokes of his thumbs calming her racing thoughts.

"There's nothing to say. And he's not more trusting of me, he trusts us both. Look…"

He struggled for words, his eyebrows pinching in the middle. Tifa felt horrible for thrusting this on him so abruptly, knowing he was still uncomfortable with being put in the position of comforting others. Wriggling her hands out of his, she breathed out.

"I know, I know. Just ignore me. I'm being silly," she forced out a chuckle. "He's a wonderful boy. His parents did a great job raising him. I'm just worrying over nothing."

"No," Cloud frowned. It stilled Tifa. "You worrying is never a silly thing. You don't worry over nothing. Now, tell me what's really on your mind? You're always telling me to open up. Don't be a hypocrite."

"Am I a good mother? To Denzel, and Marlene, both of them? I can hardly remember my own mum and it kills me inside thinking that I'm not good enough. I don't know how to do this. Growing up I fought dummies and cleaned the house but being a mother is so much more than that. I don't know how it works. It keeps me up at night sometimes. Whenever I doubt something I did I'll just imagine all the horrible possibilities that could come from it. The failure of motherhood haunting me."

Instead of feeling guilt for putting more on Cloud she felt lightened with relief. He was right, she couldn't hide behind his past mistakes and her accusations. She had to lead by example, and if that meant having her pride bruised she would take it for them both to become better.

"Teef…" Cloud exhaled sharply and ruffled the hair at the back of his head. "I don't know what to tell you. You're so good with them, I – I feel really inadequate. No, listen. You got along with all the other kids in Nibelheim. You looked after Marlene before we met again. You got Denzel to feel comfortable and safe. This parenting thing comes naturally to you, Teef. Yeah, maybe you try to think back on your own experiences but can't because your mother died when you were young. But, I never had a dad. Everything I do I've learnt it from you."

Now the shame chilled her. How dare she moan when she knew Cloud had it so much worse? She had to do something to solidify her diluted thoughts. Saying whatever was on her mind had always been such a difficult task for her before, the noose around her neck tightening as soon as courage settled in her head. Her body always seemed to be rebelling against her.

To her surprise, he continued.

"It's terrifying. One minute I've just figured out who I am and which life is actually mine, and the next I have these two kids looking up to me like a…" he coughed. "Yeah. There are moments where I freeze and have no idea what to do. Am I more like a brother? I don't know. I always looked to Zack like he was an older brother…would I make a good one? Half the time I'm worried I'll screw them up by getting involved and doing the wrong thing while the other half thinks they'll resent me for not getting involved for fear of screwing them up. I can't win. But you…you've always been here for them. You do everything right."

"So do you!" Tifa blurted. "They both adore you, constantly ask about you and want your approval. You're so important to them. We will make mistakes along the way, I've come to accept that. I just want to give them the best we possibly can."

"Without spoiling them," Cloud smirked, dipping his hand in the water to unplug the sink.

"Right."

Splash.

Gasp.

"We can't find the last piece!"

"Well, I guess I'll go and help them find it," Cloud said, skirting around the dripping Tifa.

Before he made his escape a sodden sponge hit his back where a big grey patch clung to his skin.

"Yes," Tifa agreed, curling her wet hair behind her ears. "We should. Oh, and Cloud? You make a wonderful big brother. I can see it now, big brother Cloud on bathing duties to Kadaj."

"Don't."

"And we can't forget that time when father Cloud had to supervise Marlene in the bath a while back."

"Tifa!"

"What are you two bickering about?" Marlene demanded, hands on hips as she stared at the two standing in front of them.

"Uh…"

Denzel sent Cloud and Tifa weary looks, a smirk twitching on his lips. Cloud shifted under their gazes, pulling his wet t-shirt away from his skin. With his attention diverted from the glaring Marlene, he could see something sticking out from beneath the coffee table. Bending over to pick it up, he presented it to Tifa.

"Go on."

She fit in the final piece, and the family looked at the glowing image of the Sleeping Forest.

Tomorrow, she decided. Tomorrow she would ask Denzel if he liked peppers.

* * *

Can someone explain to me a) How this has managed to be longest drabble so far when it was so hard to write? b) What this has to do with night terrors, exactly? I have no clue. More fluffy less scary. The hardest one to write so far and I'm not even entirely happy with it. Think I should stick to the horror but kind of running out of ideas for nightmares. Suggestions? Back to uni today so less time to dabble in these drabbles (see what I did?)

Brexit: While our political preferences may differ I'm glad we can both dismiss it for the sake of FF7 fanfiction and appreciate the characters. And Harry Potter!

Guest and GloriousCreation: You guys are so cute thanks so much x


	5. What If

White noise filled his head. He ignored it as best as he could, using Tifa's voice to tether him to reality. They had to find her, fast. He knew what the pounding in his head meant and it was only going to get worse. Ensuring her safety was his main priority, Cloud could sort himself out after.

Cid barked a curse loud enough to almost trip him as they ran through the Forgotten City. Tifa was ahead of them both, the rest of their comrades catching up behind. Once they had found out that Aerith was missing they rushed to convene. The more searching eyes the better. Red dashed past Cloud, nudging Tifa in a new direction. Everyone followed.

He huffed out a ragged breath, pushed his legs faster. This fatigue creeping through him was foreign, and he mimicked Cid's curse towards his body for choosing this moment to falter. It felt as if all the Mako in his system was distracted and he was lost in the adrenaline.

"There!"

His legs skidded to a stop beside a panting Tifa. Red had collapsed, whimpers escaping his muzzle. Cloud didn't have time to worry about him. He could see her now. He would save her.

The screeching intensified. A train whistle in his head.

Aerith, kneeling and praying. The light beaming down, illuminating her being like a halo. So still and peaceful that they sighed in relief and their muscles slumped, some even breathing out a chuckle at fretting unnecessarily. Cloud paused – when had he begun moving towards her? Angelic was the only word to come to mind. Too pure for this world. Silence. The world stopped. Watching her. Listening to her. She was in control. She had the power. A goddess.

His sword was in his hand, pointed straight at her. What was he doing? It felt light, weightless. But this was wrong. He was supposed to save her!

All at once the peace was shattered with the sirens and the crackling and the shrieking and the laughter. He couldn't escape it. The voices lifted his arm, an arm he fought to drop to his side but was no longer his to command, didn't even shake in protest. Black spots obscured his vision of her, poison dripping on a flower. He blinked and blinked. The blackness spread behind his eyelids, and the world disappeared.

"Cloud, stop!"

That voice…who was it?

 _Insignificant._

No. He knew that voice. It was twinkling stars and shy smiles and chocolate rice cakes. It was…it was…

 _A menace._

Right.

Right?

 _Foolish._

A façade. Wolf in lamb's wool. A menace. Stopping him from his duty.

What was his duty?

 _Kill._

…

Yes.

"Cloud!"

Kill.

"Don't do it."

No?

"Please! Wake up."

Tee…what? I'm here…where…?

Light burned his eyes as teeth wrapped around his leg, puncturing the skin until blood spilled. The Buster Sword clattered to the floor as Cloud dropped, his wounded leg outstretched before him. It stung uncomfortably. Cloud hissed through his teeth.

"I am sorry," Red said, once again lying on his stomach as if a boulder sat atop him, weighing him down. A square of black fabric was caught between his jaws. He did not even have the energy to spit it out.

"What…?" The barrage of noise was replaced by a ringing crescendo that no popping of the ears could remove. The darkness had left behind a blur and dizziness, a final black spot falling from the sky to the water below. Cloud shook his head to clear it. Blinked life into focus. "Where's…Aer. Aerith. Where's Aer –"

The air was sliced, silencing any sound.

A feminine cry rang out.

"No."

Sephiroth stood at the altar, Masamune glinting in the light that had looked so pure and serene only moments ago. Red coloured his sword. And then he saw it.

Her.

Tifa, on her knees, the blade punctured through her shoulder down to her ribs. None of it connected in Cloud's mind, the scene before him detached from its meaning. It…didn't make any sense. He only saw her back, the way she half curled into herself, fallen as if she had tripped on her way to push Aerith. How had she done that? It wasn't possible. There was no way she could have made it.

What had happened?

What the fuck had happened!

Already a puddle of crimson pooled underneath her convulsing torso. Groans and gasps escaped her, forced out by the sword that no doubt ripped through her lungs. Through skin that looked too clean for such pain. A body never meant for such violation. Already her body had encountered the weapon, once before, years ago when skin was still soft and supple. But twice, this time greeting her warrior's build? Where was the justice? Another scar imprinted on her body. He couldn't breathe, as if his lungs were her lungs and they were on fire and his heart was thumping fast enough for them both but that was impossible. The word popped into his thoughts, and he instantly shoved it away and stomped it beneath the ground, burying it in the shadows. No, there was no way…she wasn't…Tifa wasn't…

Dying

NO

Sephiroth smirked, eyes glued to Cloud. He could hear his heart, his thoughts, feel the anger and disbelief and grief and sorrow that demanded his attention. He chuckled, amused at the little boy's show. Suffering was his high and he would not stop until he was in a state of eternal bliss.

Slowly, he drew out Masamune, the squelching of organs sliding with the blade echoing through the temple. Her cries made him laugh once more, the pathetic figure slumping into her own blood. Her fingers twitched, attempting to push herself up. It slid through the thick blood. She fell.

"You're dying," Sephiroth purred.

Tifa could only moan, blood hindering the flow of words. It seized Cloud's heart, twisted it and stabbed it over and over.

"I should say you ruined everything. But, alas, your death gives me great satisfaction."

She rolled over onto her back, chest heaving. Head rolling to the side like a limp rag doll, she spat at Sephiroth.

He did not know what happened next.

She did not know what happened next.

Sephiroth was gone. The Jenova dummy was gone.

Time returned and Cloud was running up to the altar. Tifa felt heavy and lifeless in his arms as he settled her head on his lap. Dark hair clung to the blood on her face, trickling down her neck and staining his clothes. He stroked them away with his fingertips, revealing her pale face. Ruby eyes flickered up at the sky until they settled on Cloud. There was no hesitation when she locked onto his blue eyes, she just knew it was him, whether she could see him clearly or not.

And then she smiled and the first sob choked out of Cloud.

So broken and bloodied and deathly and she was still the quintessence of a fighter, a friend, a sister, a lover. Her heart should have ceased by now, but still she struggled on, determined to keep up their spirits until her final breath.

Her head lolled, and he cupped it in his hand, panicking at the dampness of her thick hair. Had she hurt her head? When? No, there was too much coating his glove, too much on the floor and not enough inside of her.

"Hey," she wheezed, and Cloud marvelled at her ability to still be the first to say something when she was in such a state. He was unworthy.

Then she started coughing, guttural coughs choked on blood and Cloud helped sit her up so it shot out from parted lips. She wilted once it was over, his shoulder ready to cradle her. A string of saliva hung down her lip. Cloud wiped it away with his thumb, pressed her face into his neck and cried. His nose buried itself in her hair, breathing her into memory. Her own breath on his bared skin was reassuring.

But for how long?

"No, Teef," his voice came out in a pitying whine. His body jumped with his second sob. "Why?"

"I…had to…save…"

The next word came out scratching against the back of her throat. Inarticulate. Like a wounded animal just waiting for the killer blow to put it out of its misery. No Cloud without Tifa. What would happen to him? Thinking of a future, the next day without her was impossible. He had allowed her to wound herself around his heart and life so intricately, like a Gordian knot, impossible to unwind. The only way to break it was to sever it.

He just wished it hadn't been Tifa.

"You can't save everyone."

"Nei…ca…you…"

"Shh, save your breath. You'll be okay."

But he, along with everyone else, knew she wouldn't. Aerith kneeled beside him, relentlessly casting cure over Tifa's unresponsive body. He didn't know how long she had been there, but the exertion was taking its toll, sweat dotting her skin, merging with her tears.

"Aer…"

"Why, Tifa?" Aerith asked, hair frizzing and falling out of her always immaculate braid. She looked, Cloud thought, insane. "You shouldn't have done that, you're not meant to die, it was supposed to be me, it had to be me."

Her cries stole her breath. Barrett pulled her up, engulfed her in his arms.

Cloud began singing to Tifa. An old Nibelheim lullaby.

"You can't die on me," he whispered into the small space between them, breaking through the middle of the song. His lips kissing her face. "I have to save you. I have to save you, I promised."

"Cloud…"

"Teef. Tifa, please. I did this for you, everything, it's all for you. I need you." Cloud's voice cracked. He sniffled. "You…Marlene, you have to wait for Marlene. Hey? What's she going to say? You can't leave her. And, and, Yuffie. Who's going to keep her from jumping on Cid the next time he calls her names? You're so fast, it's like you can tell what she's going to do before she even decides. You keep her in check. Well, as much as anyone can. We were going to go and stuff our faces with those chocolate pastries in Gongaga, once this was all over. Remember? That nice couple said they'd make it specially for us. Said their son would eat dozens in one go."

"Cloud."

You were going to drink Cid under the table. Come on, you have to stay for that. Imagine his face. He'd be too drunk to even notice, probably."

"Cloud."

He linked his fingers with hers, brought it up to his face and kissed her knuckles, her palm, her wrist. Tears still flowed down his cheeks, blurred his vision. He still saw them drop onto her face.

"Tifa, wake up."

Cloud rocked her, pressing his lips to her drenched forehead.

"Yo, Cloud. She's…"

"Come on, Teef. One more. You can survive this. One more time."

"Cloud."

"Shut up! She's okay, she's fine. Just…just tired. Right, Teef?"

"Oh, Gaia…"

"My strong girl."

Weariness washed over him. Laying her body down, he hugged her close to him, his arm around her waist and closed his eyes.

XxXxXxX

Waist deep in water, the love of his life in his arms. He couldn't do it. His arms wouldn't let her go, arms that were completely in his control but locked around her.

The world reached out for her though, and she fell from between his fingertips like vapour. Fingers flexed at the loss of pressure, urging him to grab her back.

He watched her sink lower and lower into the abyss of the Lifestream, arms outstretched. Wings of an angel.

Twin rubies shone up at him with that shy smile that followed him in his dreams.

Darkness ate her.

Cloud screamed.

XxXxXxX

Arms pulled his back against her chest. She rubbed his chest, ignoring the sweat coating his skin as she eased his tense body.

"Tifa."

"Shh, it's okay." She nuzzled her face against his shoulder blade, peppering gentle kisses. Her voice vibrated through him. It came out as soft mumbles. "You're alright. Just a bad dream."

His breathing remained fast and sharp. Eyes flying over the room in Seventh Heaven. The dressing table was against the opposite wall beside the wardrobe, the door to the right and the sole window to the left. No light streamed in through it, and he cursed himself for sliding the curtain the whole length of the window, knowing Tifa was frightened of the dark.

But she was here, holding him and safe.

Just a nightmare.

He gripped the hands on his chest, offering a squeeze before bringing them to his lips and kissing them.

"Oh God. Oh God, Tifa."

"Not again." It came out in a sigh, and he coiled.

Cloud jumped out from the bed, ripping the duvet when it tangled his legs. Turning towards her, he froze. Because it was not Tifa sharing his bed.

Green eyes surrounded by dark circles looked up at him, tired and frustrated.

"Cloud?"

"Where is she?"

"Cloud, listen."

But he did not want to. He stormed out of the room, yelling out for her as Aerith followed. One door after another he opened, revealing rooms he half recognised, the décor all wrong. The pictures on the walls wrong.

This was wrong.

"Stop! You're going to wake the children," Aerith huffed as she tugged on his arm. "Cloud, please listen to me."

"Tifa!"

"She's not here, Cloud. She's dead. Look, this has happened before, you need to wake up properly."

A light switch was turned on and young voices called for him from down the hall. Cloud, in his haste, almost ran to the bodies rubbing their sore eyes.

"Marlene, Denzel, where is she?" Cloud asked, shaking Aerith off him like one would a persistent puppy. Instantly Marlene's eyes watered while Denzel looked on confused. "Well?"

The little girl ran to him, throwing fists at his abdomen.

"How could you! You said you'd stop, you promised. Just go away!" she shrieked.

"Marlene!" Cloud exclaimed, astonished at her wild temper. He knew that a sleep disturbed Marlene was cranky, but never had she attacked or raged at him before.

"Mar, come here, sweetie," Aerith scooped her up, struggling against the resisting girl. "Let's go get you some milk, yeah?"

"I want Tifa!"

"I know, come on."

The two females retreated downstairs, and Cloud, determined to see the bar, followed after them at a distance.

Downstairs there was no bar. Flowers hung in baskets and sat in trays, rows upon rows on tables and shelves against the walls. A counter where the bar was, vases where drinks should have been displayed.

And just like the times before when Cloud had the exact same memory repeat itself in his sleep, his heart cracked and wept, his eyes lost their lustre, and he reminded himself that Tifa truly was dead. As was he.

He was living a nightmare he could not wake from.

* * *

Not to toot my own horn, but I really like how this came out. I went with the cliche interpretation of the 'What If Tifa Died Instead of Aerith' scenario, and while it's quite similar to some others out there, I like the little differences. I think. Hope you do too, I had my essay burning holes at me while I ignored it in order to write this. Anyway, hoping to come back and try this drabble again.

Thanks again to fab readers and reviewers, you guys make my day when that email notification pops up on my phone.

Would people like a little warning for the F-bomb that I threw in? I'm more than happy to include it at the beginning. I just assumed it was unnecessary.


	6. Speak

"How are you today, Ms Lockhart?"

Outside the window grey clouds dominated the sky, as was the norm in Edge. Tifa saw it as the world turning away from the destruction Midgar had caused, ShinRa's betrayal to Gaia. This was the punishment, a lifetime of gloom. Colour was hard to come by, coloured ink and dyes too expensive for the citizens who struggled to maintain their residences, bills and weekly groceries. Colour was a luxury, and in the grey dome of Edge the people were fading out.

Especially one Tifa Lockhart.

Two birds flew above, journeying away from the depression and towards Kalm. There people could afford to feed them chunks of bread and bird seed, whereas on these streets rats roamed freely, nibbling on garbage and the toes of the unfortunate. Her skin prickled as if all the insects and rodents they had encountered on their journey were crawling over her.

She did not want to be here, in this building with the noisy fan whirring above, doing nothing to quell the thick and humid air. Sweat dampened her clothes, her hair. She dreaded coming, anticipated leaving, but she always came back. Was it because it had become so engraved in her routine she felt compelled to come? Or perhaps she just needed a break every few weeks, a change in scenery from the bar, the flat above, the grocery store.

One thing was certain. She always left with more on her mind than when she arrived.

"You know, I saw my mum die. Right in front of me."

From the corner of her eye Tifa saw the blonde, composed as ever. This was new, hot stuff. Her mother. She hadn't said anything about her so far. The blonde didn't betray a thought.

"That must have been hard," she commented, detached. "How old were you?"

"Eight. I was eight." Tifa paused for a moment, following the flow of the traffic. "I could have saved her, probably. I was such a shit daughter."

"Why do you say that?"

"She said she had the flu. Always cold and shivering and blue. There was no such thing as a hospital in Nibelheim, only a doctor and two nurses – Mama was one, but only part time. Our neighbour had the experience but the mayor refused her work. The trainee was only a kid, couldn't even diagnose Chocobo pox if it bit his arse. Anyway, she got ill one day, and I didn't even think twice about it. Mama didn't get ill often, but I didn't care. Johnny and the other boys had saved up enough money for bicycles and they were going to let me have a go. I had never ridden on one before. I remember Mama sitting by the fire, so cold but sweating. She said she was going to be fine, and because she was a nurse I believed her.

"It was dark when I got back home, after Papa. We rode the bikes to the mountains and I missed dinner. She was still on the chair by the fire. Papa was so angry at me for leaving her, I'd never seen him so mad before. It scared me. He kept calling me a selfish brat, that I was stupid for putting my friends over Mama. But she calmed him down, smiled at him and said that me being out was better than catching her germs and getting sick myself." Tifa moved her gaze back inside the room, the fire disappearing from her eyes, her mother's blue and gaunt frame, her father's glare. She was back in Edge, in the plain room with the blonde, pen idle in hand, notebook bare, watching her as if she had heard it all before. This was nothing special. Death was not special. Death was the nasty neighbour that everyone avoided until it was at your door.

"She died three days later."

The blonde counsellor clicked her pen and scribbled something down. "And you were there?"

"I went out to ride the bike again, but beside the shop I saw Johnny and the boys picking on my neighbour. I liked the boy, he was nice and quiet. I didn't want them to hate me for sticking up for him, they wouldn't let me play with them then and I'd be stuck playing dolls or-or school with Nancy. And I didn't really know him either, the boy they were picking on. Who knows, he might have done something to get them riled up." Simply the thought of the little blond boy minding his own business, picking up groceries for his mum twisted her heart, and the familiar churn of guilt bubbled in her stomach. She cleared her throat. "So, I went home. Mama…she was hardly breathing. She was so cold and warm, h-how can that be? I still don't understand. That's just not normal. I tried giving her soup – she hadn't eaten properly in months. I didn't think anything of it at the time, I just thought she ate while I was out and was too busy when I was around. It just dripped from her lips and soaked through her top. And she died. Just like that."

"Have you told this to anyone before?"

Tifa shook her head. "Never."

"Why not?" she asked.

Why not? Why would she? It was her burden. Even with everything she had done as part of AVALANCHE, nothing could top allowing her mother to die. If only she had paid a bit more attention, if only she had not been so self-absorbed, if only if only if only.

Besides, there had never been an appropriate time. If she had told Barret when she had first met him he would not have trusted her with Marlene. If she had told Biggs, Wedge or Jessie they would have been uneasy having such a person on their team. If she had told Cloud he would never have considered loving – hell, even liking – her. How could anyone tolerate her with that knowledge weighing on them? Everyone had been so busy and preoccupied trying to save the world it hadn't even crossed her mind that she had no home, no family to go back to if she got out alive. And when she did stop to think about it, lungs collapsing under that freight train, she had no breath left to confess.

Tifa Lockhart killed her mother, her father. Why had she deserved to live?

Perhaps living was her punishment, just like the dried rainclouds hanging over Edge. To live with the guilt and the responsibility and the doubt. She lived for others because Tifa Lockhart had no existence for herself. That was her punishment, losing herself.

"You live with two children now, Marlene and Denzel," the counsellor commented, flipping back through her notebook where indiscernible writing looped over the lines. "Do you consider yourself their mother?"

"No," Tifa replied instantly. But in some sick, twisted way she did. She was the only maternal figure in their lives, doing everything a real mother would. They gave her a chance to be something she had long since believed she never could be, not after what she did to her own mother.

"Hm," she acknowledged, hearing the truth behind the lie. "And, your male friend?"

"Who?"

"A father figure to the children?"

Tifa licked her dry lips, the fan above echoing in her ears. "Barret adopted Marlene when she was a young child. He works away, left her in my care. Denzel was…found. He had Geostigma."

"And who found Denzel?"

"Cloud."

"And he is?"

Tifa cursed the woman. Everyone knew who Cloud was, about his business and his occasional presence at Seventh Heaven. If she didn't know better she would accuse her of prying into unknown territory, wanting to know the relationship between them. Unfortunately, that topic was lost on everyone.

"A friend."

"Only?"

"This is a waste of time," Tifa huffed, pushing herself off the chair. Sweat dripped down her back.

"Ms Lockhart, have you ever considered that your mother's death was not your fault?" she asked, pretending Tifa had not shattered the calm.

"I'm not an idiot."

"No, you're not. Which is why I cannot get my head around you being so fixated on being a murderer."

"What, you think I want to be a killer?" Tifa spat. "You think I like seeing my mother and father die every other night, over and over again? I can't escape it. I had the potential to save them both. Mama had taught me how to soothe a flu and I was trained in martial arts, I could have saved them both and they would be alive right now, but they're not. They're dead, one buried, one burned, and I have to live with that knowledge. Papa was right, I'm just a selfish brat."

"But you're trying to change that. By caring for the Marlene and Denzel," she said.

"Wha…?" Shaking her head, Tifa realised the slither of truth. She was trying to change that part of herself, the part where she focused solely on herself and ignored the consequences. When was the last time she had done something nice for herself? These sessions were the only times Tifa spoke about herself, opened her mind to whatever she felt like addressing. This woman, Dr Naora, she had no connection to her, no history or past or affiliation whatsoever. She was a stranger, a sober one who got paid to listen and hand out recycled words. Tifa could waste her time by blabbing out things she would never to anyone she considered a friend. Without realising, she stepped back into her seat. "But…why? Why me? I can't be a mother – shouldn't."

Dr Naora put aside her notebook and offered a smile. "I think that when someone is meant to die they will, and nothing can stop that. Just like if someone is meant to live, nothing can kill them, not until the time is right. Now, I cannot tell you what to believe, but to me it sounds like your mother was sick for a while. Hypothermia? And I'll also guess at an eating disorder." She sighed, the sound lifting Tifa's head. "Ms Lockhart, why are you so insistent on putting so much blame on yourself?"

"Because…it's my fault."

"Why? What is wrong with you?"

"I…I…"

"Nothing, is the answer I am looking for. Nothing is wrong with you." In an odd display of unprofessionalism, the blonde doctor knelt before Tifa and held her hands. "You demand control and logical answers, even if you don't believe in them. They are stable and fixed, things your life has never been, but now that the world is safe and is in no need of rescuing you find yourself stuck in trivial, everyday life and routines and you cannot handle it. So, what do you do? You take yourself back and try to figure everything out. You were eight when your mother died, Ms Lockhart. What could you have done that the doctor could not?"

"But she didn't even see Mama," Tifa mumbled, voice catching in the cotton wedged in her throat. "She refused to have the doctor look over her. I could have called her, made Mama see her."

Dr Naora nodded. "Yes, you could have. Or your father. But your mother would have died alongside your father then. She would not have a gravestone. Just ash scattered in the mountains. And, if you had managed to save them both, where would your life be now? Would Cloud still be in it? Marlene? Would Denzel even be alive?"

She broke, sobs and tears and broken declarations of love for her family that she thought of never existing, both past and present. She could not remember the last time she cried for them, for her. Tifa Lockhart was a strong woman, and showing the world, starting with Dr Naora, the extent to which she loved and cared for her family could never be considered weak.

"Everything happens for a reason, Ms Lockhart, whether you believe that or not. Fate, or karma, or whatever you choose to call it, you are alive and therefore deserve the best life you can possibly create for yourself. And from where I'm sitting, you have a wonderful family waiting for you."

"I'll make Mama proud," Tifa said, wiping her face. She looked out the window with a shine in her eyes, anticipating going home more than ever but this time grateful she had come.

Entering the bar, Tifa had not expected to see a certain man sitting at a table, and certainly not with ribbon in his hair and two pairs of painted hands grabbing at whatever was on the table. The door clicked shut and they saw her.

"What's going on here? Cloud, when did you come? Where's Sam?" Tifa asked, desperate to hug her children. _Her children._

"An hour ago," he replied, and Tifa could not imagine a life devoid of that sound. "I sent him home, paid him. Where were you?"

"Just getting my head straight."

He tilted his head in confusion but did not question her, knowing when a person needed some privacy.

"Tifa! Come here," Marlene giggled, rushing to pull Tifa by the hand as Denzel followed and pulled on her other hand.

"Easy, guys. What's up with you two today?"

She was forced into the seat opposite Cloud, the kids sitting on either side. A package was thrust into her lap, shoddily wrapped in brown paper and tied with Marlene's ribbon.

"For me?"

"Yeah," Cloud answered, not quite meeting her eyes as red flushed his neck.

"Open it!"

Slowly, knowing how much it irked the kids, she pulled the ribbon loose and opened the paper, making sure not to rip it. Marlene fidgeted beside her but did not reach across to hurry the process. Denzel kept looking between the present and Tifa.

Once the paper fell from her hands, Tifa found herself holding a knitted blanket. It was light blue and chunky, perfect for winter. In the corner, a dark blue flower was woven into the fabric.

"I remember you had one just like it in Nibelheim, saw it hanging from the washing line one summer," Cloud said when moments had passed in silence. "I…thought you might like something to remember home by, what with everything being destroyed." He winced once the words escaped his mouth. Tifa hardly noticed. Because Cloud had remembered her mother's blanket and replicated it somehow, just for her.

And the kids could not hold it any longer.

"Happy Mother's Day!"

"We wrote you a card as well, Tifa," Denzel stood over her shoulder as Marlene passed Tifa a note, mimicking Denzel over her opposite shoulder.

"I drew the picture!"

"And I did the bubble writing!"

"Marlene, why am I holding onto a Chocobo?"

"That's Cloud!"

He rolled his eyes at her mistake, a smile curling on his lips as Marlene charged at him, arms squeezing around his neck. Pulling her into his lap, he pushed her loose wavy hair behind her ear and away from his eyes. Tifa smiled at seeing him so comfortable, knowing that such an act would have had him tensing and running away not too long ago.

"He looks very pretty," she nodded, enjoying his squirming. Inside, in the children's alternating messy scrawls, read a message:

 _Dear Tifa,_

 _Thank you for being the bestest Mama and loving us so much and giving big hugs and making really really nice cinnamon rolls and pies. Please can we have a puppy or another little brother or sister or both!_

 _Love from your Denzel, Marlene and Cloud._

 _PS. Can we have chicken dumplings for dinner? And cinnamon rolls for dessert plese!_

"Cloud helped us with the spelling but we wrote it," Marlene declared with a grin, bouncing on Cloud's lap.

"So? What do you think?" Denzel asked.

She was thinking too much to say anything. Thinking about how she did not deserve the little angels she had the pleasure to care for, the man watching her with smiling eyes. She was thinking how she could possibly complain about her life when moments like this occurred. She had no reason to be so gloomy.

"I think," she started. "We're having dumplings for dinner and rolls for dessert."

"Yay!" the kids cheered, engulfing Tifa in a hug. "Thankyouthankyou."

"Thank you, two. It's the best present and card ever." A child in each arm, kisses on each forehead. "Cloud?"

He hesitated, and Tifa almost scolded herself for pushing, but he stood and made his way around the table. Tifa scooted on the chair, leaving a space which Cloud perched on. He swung an arm around her shoulder and placed his hand on Marlene's back, his other arm curling around Denzel and tucking him between Tifa and himself. She was surrounded in love and warmth, a tangle of limbs that served to put the world in motion and focus on the sparkles and light, pulling her away from the creeping shadows.

XxXxXxX

Eyes snapped open as a palm swung across her face, the fireplace disappearing at the soft click of the door shutting. A blur moving in the room before Cloud appeared.

"Hey," he whispered as the shrieks escaped out of the window. His hand was cool on her face. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Tifa's voice came out in a pant, the exertion of witnessing her mother's death stealing her breath. "Yeah I'm…"

She was not fine. She could not lie anymore, not after reaching such a milestone with Dr Naora earlier. She did not delude herself in thinking that such traumas would go away so easily, knew that only a step had been taken in the journey to peace.

The blue knitted blanket pooled on her lap. Lifting a corner, she patted the mattress beside her, and once Cloud had moved, she leant against his side, breathing him in to replace the burning bread rolls stinging her nostrils.

"I'm not fine."

His unease was palpable, and automatically he wrapped her in his strong arms, forgetting he was shirtless and ignoring her clammy hands on his skin.

"Tell me."

And she did. About her mother's mental and physical illnesses, her death, the abuse she suffered after, the guilt, the pain, her endless search for absolution. Under the blue blanket, the two opened their hearts to each other, chasing away their hidden demons with softly spoken words and shy kisses.

* * *

Possibly one of my favourites one to write so far. It started out of nothing and just...carried on. This just flowed out from m fingertips.

Brexit: I appreciate your comment and interpretation but the real reason behind my having Aerith be so frustrated at Cloud in the previous chapter was that his nightmare about Tifa dying instead of her were recurring and him going wild over the illusion of her still being alive was becoming irritating. She had to wait so long for Zack only to find out he died. She was young at the time so obviously her first love's disappearance would hurt her ego. So, I think she would be less patient with ehr next boyfriend/man of affection, and so having Cloud constantly search for Tifa after dreaming of her shows Aerith that nothing is going to change. Well, that was the idea for that chapter. Thank you for your review by the way!

Hope everyone enjoys this random arse drabble x

Oh, I have no idea how a counsellor or therapist or psychologist works but their field is so interesting I wanted to give it a go.


	7. Mother

He could hear her movement even above the wailing sirens and blaring horns. It was a usual occurrence, her responding to his silent disturbances in the dead of night. He did not know how she did it, how she was so in tune to his mind and soul that even in her deepest sleep she could feel his turbulent thoughts. At first his nightmares had been loud, urging Tifa to come running to his side and calm him before the children woke up disturbed and worried. Over time he had trained himself to scream silently, lock his muscles so no more involuntary bruises would taint her skin. He would jolt up, breathe while familiarising himself with the reality of the present to dissolve the fear always tickling the back of his mind of some curse that did not exist. Then, he would silently creep down the stairs and sit on the dead patch of grass that was considered their pitiful garden.

Seconds would pass before his stomach would flutter at the assurance of her footsteps following his.

The nightmares were changing. At first only small differences, a swap of words, a change in weather in the otherwise repetitive scenes. Nothing significant. But then the auburn-haired companion changed to a brunette and his heart almost exploded at the sight.

That was just the beginning.

The back door opened, bare feet stepping out before a nearly silent click of the door shutting. The smell of warmth and cinnamon and something wholly Tifa filled his nose, the addictive heat of her body settling beside his.

Innocent glassy eyes open and afraid and lifeless flashed behind his eyes.

"Again?" came her voice, heavy with fatigue but loving and caressing to his frenzied mind. It calmed under her voice, quiet and respectful for their monarch.

"Yeah," he said, leaning into her ever so slightly, her own gravitational pull. How he had resisted for so long, he would never know. She was everything good and beautiful in the world and he would be damned to be blinded, deprived and lonely, any longer. He knew what that felt like. The hopelessness. It brought more harm than any good his intentions suggested. He finally understood; repeating the same mistake would never result in a new outcome.

He stopped short of touching her, the fear that had consumed him for most of his life seizing him immediately. Maybe she did not want to comfort him, soothe his worries and ease the drumming of his damaged heart. She was there because it was expected of her. The fatigue weighing her words, she had her own problems and issues to worry about without him shoving more onto her shoulders. Hunched inwards, curling into her body. What had happened to her strong stance, the muscles that only ever shivered under ghosting kisses and greedy hands? Thoughts straying into dangerous territory, memories he welcomed and cherished and held onto tightly because it was _him_ and _her._

That damn fear.

But then he felt it, her hand over his on the rough grass, offering him everything he could ever wish for.

"Want to talk about it?" she asked, taking her eyes away from the starless sky to gaze at him. A look he wanted to be trapped in forever.

He began to shake his head. "Just the usual," he sighed, eyes pinching at the throbbing that made its home in head and intensified on nights like these.

Her thumb rubbed over his knuckles. "Don't lie to me, Cloud." He looked up at her, hating the frown on her face. "They're getting worse."

A statement. Almost as if she could see his darkest fears and most twisted thoughts. See them evolve every night as if plucked from a demon. His stomach dropped at the thought. She should not ever be exposed to such things. _Never._

She was right – they were getting worse. Tonight's terror had been unlike any twisted figment of imagination he had ever encountered. There was no enemy to channel anger towards. No anger at all, in fact. An initial swell of comfort and longing upon seeing the first person he ever considered home visiting him. Her presence convincing him he would dream well with her. But, as was usually the case, his troubled mind could not leave it be. Confusion and disbelief took over, an icy chill spreading through his veins replacing the hot blood he had come to associate with a need for vengeance, retribution, bloodlust. He had not even woken up in a cold sweat. Just…lost and confused. Dazed and above the earth.

"It's nothing," he said, hating himself immediately, knowing she would get the impression he was distancing himself from them, from her, again. "They're…ugly. You shouldn't hear bad things. See bad things."

"It's nothing new, Cloud."

His frown only deepened. "I hate that."

"I know." She squeezed his hand.

"It was…different." His finger circled the rim of the glass of milk and honey he had brought out, no doubt now cold. He hadn't even thought when his body instinctively moved around the kitchen to warm it up for himself. She used to make it for him when he had restless nights. He needed that connection with her. "My mum..."

Tifa watched him gulp down his milk, a single trail flowing over the glass and down his chin and neck.

"It was that night at the Nibel reactor. When Zack and you…when he hurt you both. And I ran up, but I didn't feel it. Everything was all blurry and I was just watching through my body, like it was all happening to someone else. And in the room..."

How was he supposed to finish? How could he say the words that lumped together in his throat, words that formed a deformed image his mind had created to torture him? Tainting all his memories of her, the smells, the caring touches, the first and ultimate love. He shut his eyes, tilting his head up to the sky and pleaded to her. For strength, for courage, for clarity and assurance.

"It was my mum up there. In the tank. All alien and wicked. And Sephiroth turned away for one second and then he was me."

 _Tifa's weight lingered in his arms, her slick blood coating his arms, joining him as he sought revenge for the damage done to her and his friend. But he felt no exertion upon lifting the Buster Sword, not how he remembered. He had struggled, even with the immense adrenaline running through him, to hold it as heavy legs jumped up the stairs. He flew now. Feet hardly hitting the steps in his rush. The tanks blurred around him, swirling in his peripheral vision as he locked onto the steel door._

 _It opened easily. Silence. His thoughts clear, no white noise deafening him. The absence of hate eerily calming as he witnessed Sephiroth expose the enemy from the skies. Slow motion. His heart did not threaten to burst through his chest. His body did not quiver and shake in uncontrollable rage. There was no feeling._

 _Just…home._

 _And he saw it. Saw her._

 _Blonde hair flowed down the expanse of a naked torso. Disfigured. Blue eyes shone through the glass, staring right at him. The wrinkles around them smiling. Her little boy. Finally come to his mother. Her sole arm lifted, reaching out for him only to be inhibited by the tube engulfing her. She lay her palm flat against it, and although he should not have been able to hear her, he did._

 _"Cloud. Sweetie."_

 _The voice he loved lined with evil, ruining everything he remembered of her. Tainting soft lullabies and gentle words. But it was her. Right? That was his mother. Not burned in her home like the rest of the godforsaken town. He still had her, could still have her forever. He would not abandon her. Not again, never again. He could save her._

 _He stepped forward, the sword slipping._

 _"Yes, Cloud."_

 _Sephiroth turned to JENOVA – his mother – caressing the glass over her face. Silent prayers in which words were lost conveyed through his eyes. She did not waver in her adoration of Cloud's presence._

 _"Mother…we will be together. Right, Cloud?"_

 _Yes! He wanted to scream. He wanted to run to Sephiroth and have him release his mother so they could be together._

 _Tifa…Zack…_

 _No, this was wrong. Sephiroth was not right. He had hurt them, the ones he loved. Just like he did before. He had killed his mother. And it would happen again. She was not…she couldn't be…_

 _Mum…_

 _JENOVA?_

 _Blue eyes flashed._

 _"Cloud," she called. "Come."_

 _"Come, Cloud. Let's help Mother."_

 _Cloud turned to Sephiroth, meeting an image identical to his own. He looked down, Masamune in his hands with the combined blood of two of his most cherished. He should have felt sick._

 _"You had to, Cloud," his mother said. "They were stopping you. They did not want us to be reunited. We must. We need each other, love. Come. Help me. I need you."_

 _"Mother!"_

 _Kadaj, Loz and Yazoo. Crying joyous tears as they ran past Cloud and surrounded the tank. Hands desperate to touch, hold, embrace. Greedy and impatient but waiting for him._

 _"Brother! Join us. Our reunion has come. Let us be together, a family once more."_

 _"Mum?"_

 _"Oh, my dear sweet child. Come. They hurt you. They always will. Let me see your hurt, let me take it away. We'll both get through this, make sure you never get hurt again. Never let this world harm us."_

 _A little blond haired boy pushed into a puddle of mud, dirtying his new clothes. The children all laughing at him, the adults turning away._

 _School lunches stolen and fed to the three legged dog, chucked down the well, rubbed into his hair._

 _Bruises on pale skin. Blood on his knuckles and knees. No one believing him. Liar, accusations spat from all around. Fingers thrust in his face._

 _The girl from next door turning her back on him, getting lost in the crowd and leaving him behind. Slipping through his fingers into an abyss._

 _ShinRa grunts whispering from the corners of his eyes, jeering at his failures again._

 _A young boy abused to an adolescent scarred._

 _One constant always by his side to mend his physical and mental wounds._

 _She was dead._

 _No, she was there. He could see her, hear her._

 _JENOVA…that name was wrong. Sour._

 _NO._

 _He grasped her tube within moments, releasing her from her confines. She emerged, breathing the toxic fumes of the reactor like nectar._

 _"My child," she cooed, fingers cradling Cloud's face and bringing him into her embrace. "No more hurt."_

 _"Mum…"_

 _"Just us. Together. Always."_

 _That sounded nice._

 _Right?_

Screams echoed into the night when his eyes fluttered open. Screams he knew all too well but failed to dwell on. Tanks opening, steam billowing out as his mutated family appeared and joined him and his brothers.

 _Cloud by JENOVA's side, slowly destroying the only two others he had loved._

For a moment, he had almost convinced himself he was back home, tucked safely into his mother's side while the storm thundered around them. The grey walls of his room above Seventh Heaven had greeted him, and he was not sure whether that soothed him or not.

He had slipped out of bed, grabbing himself a glass of milk and honey just like his mother usually did whenever he had a bad sleep and retreated into the small garden space.

"Mum always liked being around nature when she was stressed. Said it calmed her down."

"How do you feel now?" Tifa asked.

"I don't know. Sad? Guilty?"

"Why?"

"…For not thinking about her more often. Her missing out on this." For ever putting his mother in the place of a monster. For believing it. Wanting it.

"This?"

His cheeks warmed, but he felt no shame. "Our family."

Tifa ducked her head, hiding a smile Cloud knew was stretched across her face.

"Do you think…it was the S cells?" his voice was low, almost afraid to say the words as if they would join in the space around him and become real. "Making me believe JENOVA was my mother? That they were my family?"

"I don't know. Whatever it was, it's bullshit."

His lip lifted upwards into a smirk. He always found it amusing when Tifa swore.

"Yeah."

Their hands had intertwined, his finger playing with her wolf ring. He had never realised which finger it encircled before. Had he?

"I would never hurt you."

"I know."

"Not intentionally. Not again."

"Cloud."

He had no clue where he was going with this. The moon appeared from behind grey clouds and with it his courage soared beyond the blanket of fear he shrouded himself with like a second skin.

Tifa lay back on the ground, tugging on Cloud's hand.

"The sky looks so big. Come, look. Lay with me."

How could he deny her? Hair splayed out around her, eyes soft and warm and loving, lips curved into a shy smile. He lay beside her, placing their joined hands on his chest. His heart thumped beneath.

Laying on his back, the sky did look intimidating, perfectly still and dark. And big. It made him feel small, a feeling he was all too accustomed to. But this was different. Small enough to think that perhaps the miseries and darkness surrounding his life would dim. Burdens would crumble and he could stand tall and strong in the light. The evils in his head had no hold over him, escaping in the presence of the sky, no place to hide and taunt him. Just open space. Eternity for him to simply breathe and feel. But if he looked long enough his stomach would roll. Falling. Crushed under the weight of the empty sky pressing down on him. It riveted him.

But what was the expanse of the sky in comparison to the magnitude of emotions the woman beside him brought? The touch of her hand driving away his fears and delusions. Soaking in her purity through every pore in his body, hoping it would cleanse his soul, hoping he could then be enough for her. She terrified him. She calmed him. She made him happy and confused and wanted and guilty and frustrated. But he always returned. Always would. Because with Tifa he was everything. A man, a friend, a companion, a window cleaner, a protector, an aid, a hero. And something just more. Nameless.

But it was everything.

Gazing up at the sky, so quiet and calm, he could not believe it was capable of birthing such an evil entity.

A sudden thought came to him.

"Do you think…mum's up there? Looking down on me?"

"She's always been with you. She would be so proud of you. You know that, right?"

He didn't. He couldn't understand how she would. But hearing Tifa say that did something to him. Moved feelings in his chest. He had always been a source of disappointment, although she never let him think that. He knew it. He was never the smartest child, nor the friendliest. Neither strong nor brave. Always getting into fights and ruining everything she worked so hard to provide for him. How could she be proud of him?

"She's up there, watching you right now. With Aerith and Zack and my mum. They're laughing at Zack's stories of your time in ShinRa with him. And in turn she's telling them all about your adorable baby tales. It's because of you she can have that peace and love with them. You're the reason they are able to be with each other."

It was the stuff of dreams, and while he was lacking in those, he could easily see that picture. His mother at ease when all she knew in life was pain and struggle. Smiling.

"We should get some plants," she said suddenly. "This place has been neglected long enough."

"What do you suggest?"

"Lots of colour. I liked your mum's purple roses. And the red dahlias."

He remembered those, vaguely. He remembered seeing a little girl admiring them over the fence separating their gardens through his window. Remembered plucking a flower and leaving it on her doorstep, knowing she would be the first to see it as she greeted the milkman. Remembered her skipping through town with it neatly tucked into her hair. Remembered his mother's delight at seeing the girl from next door showing off her new accessory to the town. Her adoration of the little girl. Remembered the incessant teasing of his mother reminding him of the bouquet Tifa would hold on their wedding.

Their wedding…

Brown eyes peered up at him, seeing him for everything he was and wasn't. Seeing through him until they touched his soul and made him quiver with an intensity he was sure could take out armies.

"I won't let anyone ever hurt you again, Cloud. No more hurt."

Tifa stroked his face, across his forehead down his nose, along his cheek until they reached his lips. It was her finger on his cheekbone that alerted him to a wetness he hadn't realised he released. Her touch intoxicated him. He could never get enough. More. He grabbed her waist with his free hand, feeling the warmth of her skin against his and the life beating through her veins. The day he could no longer feel that reassurance would be the day he died. Rolling onto his side, his nose grazed her face, breathing her in until his demons drowned under her presence.

"Just us. Together."

"Always."


End file.
